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  While planning for his next withdrawal, Volckmann was greeted by yet another artillery barrage. Like before, these were 75mm guns but now the shelling continued for over half an hour. As he dove into the nearest ditch, he could not fathom how the Japanese had found him so quickly. After the firing stopped, he discovered that his command post lay right in the middle of three Japanese howitzer batteries conducting coordinated counterbattery fire with one another. Without a moment’s delay, he relocated the entire regiment. 38

  The following day, Colonel Townsend rejoined the 11th once again as their commander. His reunion with the regiment was crowned by a heavy Japanese assault—this time with tanks. The armored thrust broke through the 13th Infantry on Volckmann’s right flank, and in the process managed to cut off the 11th’s main escape route. The regiment had been cut off before, but now they were running from Japanese armor. With Townsend back in command, he ordered Volckmann to find a secondary route under the cover of darkness. Volckmann found a suitable route, but it took the regiment into another position that would not be tenable for long. 39

  At daybreak on 4 January, the regiment hastily dug-in along Highway 7 at Kilometer Post 190 just south of Guagua. 40 For the moment, they had outrun the Japanese ground forces. What they could not outrun, however, were the Zeroes. Throughout the day, dive-bombers pounded the 11th Infantry. Increasingly frustrated with the three-dimensional beatings he and his men were taking, Volckmann ordered them to break contact and withdraw under the cover of darkness. This time however, the withdrawal was a welcome change. Instead of being ordered into another defensive position, the 11th was taken off the line and assembled into a rest area.

  By now, the men—Filipino and American—looked visibly different. Those who were still alive had been emaciated by only one month of war. Volckmann described them as having drawn and almost ghastly faces. The long periods of sleeplessness, intense combat, and minimal food rations had further diminished their collective health. Several others began showing symptoms of malaria and scarlet fever. For what it was worth, Volckmann still had his health, but his appearance was no better than that of his men. The challenges placed on this young, 30-year-old captain were taking their toll. He had no signs of tropical disease but had already lost several pounds, and had been badly bruised by the tactical environment. Whatever the condition of his body, it was hardly of any importance to him now—the 11th Infantry had arrived in Bataan. This was pleasing, as the defensive lines were now on terrain favorable to the Americans. By the same token, however, Volckmann knew that they had nowhere else to go. Bataan and Corregidor were the end of the line.

  USAFFE’s retreat in North Luzon. The 11th Infantry’s withdrawal from Lingayen Beach can be traced roughly along Highway 13. La Paz, Carmen, and Zaragoza are visible from the map. This area marks the site of one of the 11th Infantry’s deadliest battles.

  CHAPTER 3

  The Great Escape

  Four days in the rest area saw the men beginning to look like their old selves. Smiles and laughter made their way through the ranks, but it would soon be over. The following day, the regiment received orders to occupy a defensive sector along Manila Bay. Though uneventful on the ground, their sector received plenty of bombardment from the air. With the Far East Air Force (USAFFE’s only air asset) all but destroyed, Japanese dive and high-altitude bombers had become a regular nuisance. 41

  During this time, Volckmann recounted a visit he made to the 31st Infantry, where he had been a company commander upon his arrival in the Philippines. It was here that he realized just how miserable his current troops in the 11th Infantry looked by comparison. The men of H Company—whom he had commanded only a few months earlier— looked clean and crisp. The 31st Infantry had not been idle—they were covering the American retreat—but seeing the comparative state of the troops, there was no mistaking that the 11th had received the harsher beating. 42

  On 12 January, General MacArthur convened a meeting of the Division commanders and senior staff, the purpose of which was to assure the impending arrival of reinforcements. 43 MacArthur promised that hundreds and even thousands of troops were on their way. It sounded like great news, but Volckmann recalled his meeting with the General from two months earlier: MacArthur assured him that the Japanese could not possibly strike until summer 1942. Then again, he asked himself, “Who was I to question the General?” 44

  Nevertheless, Volckmann tried to remain optimistic. Now that the bulk of American forces were consolidated around Bataan, he was confident that tight communication and common sense would prevail.

  Sadly, it was not to be.

  On 25 January, he learned that the entire 11th Division would be reassigned further west to the vicinity of Pilar-Bagac. This gave him no worries until he discovered the area where Division wanted to place his regiment. Traveling with a Division staff officer to a point on Trail 7, 2.5 kilometers off the main Pilar-Bagac road, Volckmann learned that his defensive line was to cover over 2,500 yards, or about 1.5 miles. While the distance was not unmanageable for a regiment to defend, the foliage was so thick that Volckmann could barely see ten yards in either direction. Any attempts to cut through the jungle were useless—the foliage was too dense. 45

  How, he wondered, was he supposed to build a defensive line through this?

  Although it is not certain, he may have navigated his way around the thicket by using a series of firebreaks or the other numbered trails. In any event, he was able to find clearings suitable for his battalions. In his diary, Volckmann documents his frustration with the terrain: although the three battalions now had defensive positions, they were separated by thick patches of jungle. This made them highly susceptible to being cut off and surrounded. What concerned him the most, however, was 3rd battalion.

  As per Division orders, he sent them to the Outpost Line of Resistance—over two kilometers away from the main line. Volckmann knew that the order was unwise, and he hated it. The jungle had already separated the elements of his main line. Now, he was expected to send an entire battalion over two kilometers away where—separated by distance and heavy foliage—their chances of being cut off suddenly multiplied.

  Three days after establishing his new position, Volckmann was on his way to Regimental Headquarters when he ran into elements of the 45th Infantry Regiment (Philippine Scouts) moving off the line. Because they had been assigned to guard the 11th Infantry’s left flank, Volckmann wanted to know where they were going. He stopped one of the officers and learned that the 45th had been reassigned to the I Corps reserve further south. Normally, Volckmann would have had no qualms about something such as this, but there was no unit assigned to take the 45th Infantry’s place. 46 This meant that a large sector of the main line was wide open. Aghast, Volckmann reported the vulnerable flank to Division Headquarters. USAFFE sent the 1st Division, Philippine Army, to replace the departed 45th, but it did not arrive for another two days. 47

  On 30 and 31 January, the Japanese began attacking the Outpost Line of Resistance. Throughout the assault, the outpost units— including Volckmann’s 3rd battalion—were driven back into the main line. Meanwhile, Headquarters rejected every appeal Volckmann made to authorize relocation for 3rd battalion. This made Volckmann cringe, as he knew there was nothing more he could do for his outstretched defenders. Even more disheartening was that one of the platoons in 3rd battalion had been captured. Volckmann described the Japanese interrogation techniques with horror and disgust:

  The men were tied to trees and subjected to a session of questioning in a manner in which the Japs were most proficient. Their questions centered on the main battle position, about which our third battalion men had no knowledge, for they had never been on the main battle position. Each question that brought an unsatisfactory reply was followed by a bayonet jab. The Japs finally left all of our men for dead, but some hours later one of our men came to and managed to crawl through the jungle to our lines. He had eleven bayonet wounds to confirm his story. 48

  Finally, on 1
February, the Japanese broke through the main line. For the next 21 days, the 11th and 45th Infantry Regiments, as well as elements from the 91st Division, battled a single Japanese regiment. Although the American-Philippine units had numerical superiority— two of their regiments versus only one of the Japanese—their firepower was inferior. At one point during the battle, the Japanese overran another one of Volckmann’s platoons, this time in 2nd battalion. The break created a small pocket in the main line that stood until heavy fighting finally forced the enemy to withdraw. 49 Although they had taken a tremendous beating, the soldiers of the 11th Division could now breathe easier knowing that the Bataan Line had been restored.

  By the first of March, the Japanese assault had died down. March was relatively quiet, but the combat of the previous month had taken a heavy toll on the 11th Infantry. Continuous fighting had made their peacetime supply shortages even worse, especially in regard to food rations. By now, they were feeding off plants and animals. Aside from their nourishment, the lack of adequate food affected their performance. Everyone on the line suffered, including Volckmann. Now, only a few hours’ work in the tropical heat could turn an otherwise capable soldier into a casualty. Plus, disease within the ranks—a persistent problem even before Bataan—created more gaps in the defensive line.

  In recognition of his leadership with the 11th Infantry, Volckmann received a promotion to major. The promotion, however, brought with it another reassignment, this time as the 11th Division’s Intelligence Officer. Though unhappy to leave his regiment, the job brought with it more news about the current state of USAFFE ground forces. Unfortunately, none of the reports were encouraging.

  Within a week of his new assignment, Volckmann received word that the Japanese had overrun II Corps’ main line units. The worst news, however, arrived on the evening of 8 April: the II Corps commander, General Edward King, had surrendered. This meant that the Japanese would be at the 11th Division Command Post in a matter of hours. Shortly thereafter, General Brougher ordered the first white flags to be raised. 50

  By now, Volckmann was incredulous. He felt as though all his hard work, and the blood and suffering of his men, had been for nothing. He wondered if “Uncle Sam” expected him to spend the rest of the war in a prison camp—assuming that the Japanese were even taking prisoners. While perusing the possibilities of his fate, he remembered the soldier from 3rd battalion who had crawled back to the main line with eleven bayonet wounds.

  Volckmann tried to solicit the idea of escaping and evading the enemy. As Division Intelligence Officer, he had found a glimmer of hope in a report concerning the whereabouts of Colonel John P. Horan, commander of the 43rd Infantry Regiment (Philippine Scouts). While Volckmann had begun his retreat from Lingayen Gulf, Horan found himself in a desperate struggle to impede the Japanese onslaught. As it were, the Japanese expeditionary force that landed at Vigan caught USAFFE defenders in the rear at La Union Province. What ensued was nearly a total route of the American-Philippine forces, although some units managed to withdraw to the city of Baguio. There, they consolidated under Horan’s leadership. 51

  Prematurely, Horan declared Baguio an open city and ordered all remaining units in the vicinity to push southeast toward Balete Pass. Horan had hoped to make Balete Pass a rally point for other USAFFE outfits in Central Luzon, but the Japanese had already occupied the surrounding area. Upon hearing this news, Horan disbanded his ad hoc force and withdrew southward into the Zambales Mountains. As the main battle lines continued to move south, the units that Horan had consolidated at Baguio dissolved into the jungle. For the time being, many chose to remain dormant—biding their time against the Japanese. Others, for as long as their supplies and ammunition held out, continued to fight against the enemy’s rear echelons.

  The latest intelligence reports indicated that Horan was leading a small group of raiders operating somewhere in the northern Zambales Mountains. Volckmann had no intention of joining Horan, but took a keen interest in the units that Horan had left behind at Baguio. Reviewing the intelligence data, Volckmann determined that there had to be at least four regiments still in the area. 52 Furthermore, Baguio and Balete Pass were firmly situated in Mountain Province, the largest province in the northern cordilleras and a purported hotbed of American support. The game may have been over on Bataan, he reasoned, but if Volckmann and a few others could escape farther north, they could easily regroup and consolidate with what remained of Horan’s old outfit.

  General Brougher unenthusiastically told Volckmann that he could do so if he insisted, but Volckmann’s fellow officers were even less receptive. They treated him as if he were either overzealous or crazy. “Why try?” they replied. “The Japs will treat us okay.” 53 Even if he did run, they were certain that the endless network of spies and informants would eventually intercept him.

  Nevertheless, Volckmann told himself that he would rather die fighting than take his chances with the Japanese. He had seen the atrocities of which the Japanese were capable—not only against his own men, but in the headlines chronicling the invasion of Manchuria. However, despite the overall lack of enthusiasm among his peers, he found an ally in Captain Donald “Don” Blackburn. 54

  Since joining the 11th Division in Central Luzon, Blackburn had been the Division Signal Officer. Over the past few months, he and Volckmann had become close friends and often traded combat stories with each other. After listening to the idea of joining Horan’s old units, Blackburn threw his lot in with Volckmann. Blackburn later recalled the importance of Volckmann’s decision to escape this area of North Luzon:

  The sparsely inhabited Cordilleras were sandwiched between the narrow Ilocos coastal lowlands bordering the China Sea on the west and the Cagayan Valley on the east. To the south lay the Central Plain. Five principal Igorot tribes inhabited the area—the Benguets, Ifugaos, Bontocs, Kalingas, and Apayaos, whose respectively named subprovinces comprised the larger Mountain Province. The Igorots of this relatively inaccessible and invigorating region had benefited from the early American administrators and missionaries, and their gratitude was evidenced in their kindly [sic] attitude toward Americans. We knew the territory and approached it with confidence in the security and support that it would provide. 55

  It was difficult for the two to make any detailed plans because they did not yet know how the surrender would be constructed. What they did know, however, was that when the opportunity arose, they would escape to the north.

  That opportunity arrived on 9 April 1942—the day of the official surrender. By now, all remaining USAFFE units had displayed white flags at their posts. Although recognized as the universal symbol for surrender, the Japanese ignored them. Firing like madmen, they burst through the American-Philippine lines. The previous day, Volckmann and Blackburn had located a northward stream and determined that it would be their best escape route. With the fury of the Japanese only seconds away, both men rolled into the streambed and slowly crawled away from the Division Command Post. Within a few moments, they escaped undetected, concealed by the heavy undergrowth of the jungle. Crawling on their bellies, the pair slowly inched their way out of the Bataan peninsula. 56

  At a snail’s pace, they crept through the night. Volckmann stated that “minutes seemed like hours” and indeed, after hours of crawling, both men were exhausted with scrapes and bruises from the rocks in the streambed. 57 The two fell asleep for a few hours but were suddenly awakened by the sound of voices. Volckmann motioned for Blackburn to keep quiet as he strained his ear to determine who it was on the bank of the streambed. Luckily, the voices were not Japanese.

  Moving in about 20 yards beyond the streambed, he and Blackburn encountered an American with four Filipino soldiers. The American identified himself as Lieutenant Whiteman. Volckmann invited the young lieutenant into his group, but the four Filipinos insisted that they join as well. Volckmann wanted to keep his traveling party small, but seeing how passionate these Filipinos were to fight the Japanese, he agreed to let them in. 58r />
  As the sun rose, Volckmann and his new friends departed for North Luzon. With the enemy behind him and traveling in the opposite direction, Volckmann now had to worry about the garrisons and patrol networks that the Japanese had left behind during their advance. However, the Imperial Japanese Army was not the only hazard that lay before him.

  Volckmann already knew that several towns unwittingly harbored Japanese spies. Operating under the guise of merchants or traveling businessmen, the so-called “fifth column” had spent considerable time taking photographs and making maps for the Japanese before they arrived. These same spies were no doubt still lingering in the area and likely to be on the lookout for any displaced Americans. Roaming bandits were also a frequent problem. Consisting mostly of petty thugs and other small-time criminals, these bandits often traveled in groups of five. Brandishing pistols, high-powered shotguns, and Bolo knives, they would prey on whatever opportunistic targets they could find— American, Filipino, or Japanese. 59

  Before his escape from Bataan, Volckmann also received a stern warning from General Brougher: if he insisted on escape, there would be no way to reach North Luzon without crossing the Central Plains— territory whose inhabitants were supposedly hostile toward Americans. The most notable of these denizens were the Hukbalahap, an amalgamated militia of the Philippine Socialist and Communist parties. The word “Hukbalahap” was an acronym for Hukbo ng Bayan Laban sa mga Hapon—literally translated: “The People’s Army Against the Japanese.” Consisting mostly of tenant farmers and tradesmen, the “Huks,” as they were commonly referred to, had been stirring discontent within the Central Plains long before Volckmann arrived and continued harassing the Philippine government well into the 1950s. 60